


The Librarian’s Assistant

by Ethereal_Wishes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Storybrooke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 19:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17330999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereal_Wishes/pseuds/Ethereal_Wishes
Summary: Ian Gold is down on his luck, after being fired from the cannery.  He’s about to lose everything, including his small son if things don’t start to brighten up.  When, Belle French - town librarian - offers him a job, his outlook begins to change and so does his lack of companionship.This was written for Veronicaleigh’s birthday! One of my favorite fandom authors! <3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookwormchocaholic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwormchocaholic/gifts).



The Librarian's Assistant: Prologue

A/AN: Veronicaleigh I present to you your birthday fic...

Ian Gold glanced down at his toddler son, clutching his donated, stuffed teddy bear from the toy drive Storybrooke town hall put on every year. It was Neal's first Christmas without his mother, and Ian's first without steady employment. They'd always managed to scrape by, but this year the cannery had laid him off. He couldn't afford a single Christmas present for Neal and still pay the rent. The three year old seemed content with his gift, hugging it closely to his chest as they crossed Main. They'd be able to keep their tiny flat for another month, without fear of being evicted. Ian knew he needed to act fast. Bills didn't pay themselves, and he had to find a way to make ends meet. They were headed home after a failed interview at the lumber yard. He felt utterly depleted of all hope as they passed the diner and then the library.

"Papa, can we stop? I'd like to check out a book." Neal gazed at Gold with his big brown eyes, pulling him from his despondency.

"Aye, of course." Gold forced a smile, nodding amicably as they turned around to go back to the library. He clutched his son's hand tightly in his own as they entered through the double doors. The aroma of cinnamon and old books permeated the atmosphere. Neal led his father to the children's section, where a pretty librarian was reading to a group of preschoolers. Gold listened intently as he stood in the background as the toddler plopped down on the floor with the other children, listening to a story about a bull named Ferdinand.

Gold closed his eyes briefly, allowing her alluring accent to soothe his frazzled nerves. Soon the story ended, and the other children began to disperse – taking their parents' hands and searching for their own books. He'd done the same, patiently allowing Neal to pick out an array of picture books. They were the last to arrive at the checkout counter. The librarian granted them both a brilliant smile, stealing his breath.

"Wow, these are certainty some great choices," she added, focusing solely on Neal.

"Thanks, my papa always reads to me – as much as I want him to. I didn't get any new books for Chritmas because he lost his job. Momma died too," Neal revealed, causing her countenance to fall.

Gold flushed deeply, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole. The librarian shared a somber look with him before fixing her attention back on Neal. "Well, it just so happens that I'm in need of an assistant around here. Someone to shelf books, do some light cleaning, and fill in whenever I need to be absent. There's a caretaker's apartment above the library, and it also accompanies the job. I don't use it because I recently secured a place of my own."

Neal glanced knowingly at his father. "Well, Papa, needs a job. Don't you, Papa?" The cherub faced boy inquired.

Gold nodded, stifling back the tears misting behind his eyes. "Yes, we could certainty use the income."

The beautiful woman held out her hand. "I'm, Belle French, and I'll expect you to be here at eight a.m.. Your boy can come too. I know how expensive childcare can be, and I'm sure he'll be a big help," she grinned, winking knowingly at Neal.

Ian took it, offering her a formal handshake. "I can assure you'll that he'll be of no trouble at all. And I humbly thank you for your generous offer."

"And what's your name?" Belle probed, still firmly gripping his hand.

"Oh, my apologies, I'm Ian Gold, and this is my son, Neal," he stammered, gesticulating to the little boy.

"Tis a pleasure to meet you both. Enjoy those books, and I'll see you first thing in the morning?" she queried, blue eyes boring into brown.

"Yes, and thank you. I'm eternally grateful for your generosity," he remarked, taking Neal by the hand and leaving the library. Neal continued to wave at her until she was no longer visible. Once they'd arrive home to their flat, he'd begged his papa to read one of his books.

"Can we read the dragon one?" he'd insisted.

"As you wish," Gold consented, reading two out of the five books they'd rented.

"Papa, Ms. Belle sure was pretty, wasn't she?" Neal remarked with a yawn, cuddling under the blankets after his father had tucked him in.

"Aye, she certainly was," Gold mumbled, kissing his mop of curls affectionately.

Without another word, he'd silently retired to the kitchen, scanning the classified ads of yesterday's Daily Mirror. As he'd suspected, there had been no ad for a librarian's assistant. Had Belle French merely offered him a job out of the goodness of her heart? He was stumped. Most people in their quaint town typically avoided him. He was infamously known for being married to a schizophrenic which suffered from alcoholism. Milah had died last summer of alcohol poisoning but living with her had been a daily battle. She’d refused to take her medicine, and he certainly wasn't able to trust her around Neal. His beautiful, intelligent bride had turned into someone he no longer recognized, after the illness had manifested itself after Neal's birth. Her delusions had driven her to drink, and he couldn't save her. The little money he earned wasn't enough to secure her the help she'd needed. He blamed himself every day for her demise. If it wasn't for Neal, he'd have already given up. His son was his sole purpose for living these days, and he would do whatever it took to care for him.

A/AN: Next chapter entails Gold's first day at the library.


	2. Chapter 2

The Librarian's Assistant: Part Two

Ian arrived at the library a quarter till eight the following morning. Neal hugged his teddy bear close – a small backpack hanging off his right shoulder – filled with crayons and coloring books. He'd hesitantly knocked on the door, wondering if the beautiful librarian had changed her mind about him. Surely it was merely a slip of the tongue. No one in their right mind would ever hire him. He was pulled from his self-loathing as she suddenly emerged, unlocking the door for them.

"I certainly apologize for not answering, immediately. I was making coffee, and here." She thrust a cup into his hand, blushing prettily.

Ian blinked owlishly, taking the cup from her hands and sipping generously. The sudden urge to spit it out overwhelmed him. The coffee tasted atrocious, but he wouldn't dare utter a word of his dissatisfaction to her. She'd offered him a job, and he wished to remain in her good graces. "Thank you kindly," he added, downing the rest of the horrendous brew with a smile.

Belle rubbed her hands together nervously. "I have prepared a play area especially for Neal. It's basically a small sectioned area behind my desk, where you can check on him periodically."

"That was very thoughtful of you, Ms. French. Wasn't it, Neal?" Ian commented, jabbing his three year old lightly.

Neal nodded amicably as Belle showed him the play area – filled with an assortment of building blocks, picture books, and stuffed animals. Neal's eyes brightened as Belle took his hand, leading him to the restricted area. She dismounted onto her knees, maintaining eye level with the toddler. "Now, remember, this is your special kingdom, and no one can cross it without your permission. Protect it all costs," she instructed convincingly.

The little boy saluted her. "I won't let you down!" he vowed.

Ian stifled back a giggle at his son's exuberance. Unfamiliar warmth radiated through him as, Belle, tossed him a secretive smile. "Shall I show you your first task?" Belle inquired, gesticulating for him to follow. He nodded amicably, throwing a glance back at Neal – allowing the librarian to lead him to the back of the library. He spied a heap of boxes, lying haphazardly in a corner.

Belle bent down, opening a box. She brushed stray ringlets from her eyes, and Ian couldn't help but find it endearing. "So, these boxes are filled with old tomes. Some of them have been donated and others are from thrift books – an online used bookstore, which I ordered from. I'd like for you to sort through them, and then I'll show you how to catalog them properly. If you need to use the restroom, there's one down the hall," she paused, pointing to a hallway he seemed to have missed on their way back. "If you need to check on your son, then you're welcome to do so whenever. You may take your lunch at twelve, but be back by one. Your shift will end at four, and I'll need you to work every other Saturday – nine until noon."

Ian smiled faintly. "I thank you kindly for your generosity, Ms. French, and I'll get right to work on these," he replied gratefully, stooping down to open a box.

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Gold. I've been needing some help around here for awhile. The position hasn't been advertised because I needed the right person to walk through that door, and you, Mr. Gold, are that person," she supplied, beaming brilliantly.

Gold shook his head. "But you don't even know me."

Belle shrugged. "It was merely a hunch, but I've never been wrong before." Ian observed as she sauntered away, and he couldn't help but grin like a fool as he began rummaging through the pile of boxes. By lunchtime, he had four boxes sorted by author. He cast a few ruined tomes aside. They'd been in a donation box which smelled of mildew.

Neal had been playing contentedly all morning, seemingly comforted by Ms. French's presence. His heart wrenched with regret, as he thought of his deceased wife. Neal had been too young to understand his mother's outlandish outbursts, though Ian had did everything possible to shield his innocent mind from the heartbreak. He hoped his son didn't begin to cling to her too heavily, but he supposed children didn't understand these concepts. Every experience couldn't be measured in black and white, often life was gray – cloudy and somber.

Gold opened his wallet, spying a crinkled, five dollar bill. He had just enough cash to purchase Neal something from the kid's menu at Granny's. His stomach gave a loud burgle of protest, he vowed to warm up a pack of ramen noodles when he arrived home. He walked beside Belle's desk, ruffling his son's hair affectionately.

Neal gazed upwards, grinning. "Papa! I made a house for Rumple!" He gestured towards the Lego house his stuffed bear resided under.

"Rumple?" Ian furrowed a brow at the uncanny moniker.

"Yeah! I named him after Rumpshiltskin from the picture book, Belle read to me." Neal attempted to say the fabled imp's name.

"Well as long as you fancy it, now how about some lunch?" Ian asked his boy.

"May I have some chicken nuggets and fries?" He practically begged.

"Certainly, shall we dine together?" He proffered the boy his hand.

Belle observed as the pair wandered across the street. She'd closed up the library for an hour herself, passing by Granny's on the way to the post office. Belle caught their candid moment in passing. Neal Gold was happily devouring his lunch, but Ian's place-setting was empty. Was he too poor to buy himself any lunch? She swore to remedy that as she purchased herself a sandwich from the deli on the way back. She bought two – one for herself and the other for Ian. The pair arrived back at the library a few moments after her. Neal immediately returned to the play area, and Ian set his sights at the back of the building – where his task remained unfinished.

"This is for you, take ten extra minutes." She sidestepped in front of him, handing him the bag. Ian blinked curiously, opening the bag to find a turkey and rye sandwich, and a bottle of water tucked inside. He was flummoxed, but he wasn't about to turn down free food. For the remainder of the afternoon, he felt his work run more efficiently. He'd managed to organize five more of the boxes before his shift ended.

Belle was leafing through some documents when he arrived at the front of the library to retrieve, Neal, at four o'clock.

"I'll see you in the morning, Ms. French, and thank you kindly for the food. Feel free to dock my pay for the extra expense," he said.

Belle halted her thumbing, glancing at him – her eyes docile and kind. "Consider it a gift, Mr. Gold. Good evening to you both," she added, granting him a brief smile before returning to her work. His heart involuntarily somersaulted in his chest as he dared a glance back at the blue-eyed beauty, certain there was no one in the world quite like her.


	3. Chapter 3

The Librarian's Assistant: Part Three

When Belle arrived home at five o'clock that afternoon, she hadn't expected Sheriff Swan to be sitting on her stoop – a little girl settled beside her. A mop of matted brown curls rested atop her head and her face was splotched red from crying. She felt her heart drop in her chest, her stomach lurch with unease. When her eyes met the blonde haired woman's, she caught a glimpse of sympathy in her verdant irises. The sheriff rose from the stoop, meeting her halfway. The little girl kept her gaze downcast on the pavement, as still as a statue.

"What's going on?" Belle whispered harshly to the sheriff.

Emma sighed, carding her fingers through her hair. "Your brother was arrested for drug possession. He's going away for a long time. Apparently he was aiding a cartel, by assisting them in smuggling cocaine across the Mexican border. They aimed to put her in the system, but your brother insisted she come and live with you. He said you'd be the one to take the best care of her."

Belle groaned, scrubbing her right hand down her face in frustration. "Of course he did, big sister has always been there to clean up his messes."

"Legally you don't have to take her, but she'll be placed in the system, juggled from home to home. From personal experience, it isn't a fun way to grow up. She has a better chance of thriving in a loving home with someone she's familiar with. If not, she's likely to become another statistic," Emma replied stiffly, clapping Belle on the shoulder.

Belle shook her head, feeling her resolve crumbling. "No, I'll take her, just let me talk to her first."

Emma nodded. "I'll head over to the DHS office and have a caseworker bring over the proper paperwork."

Belle felt a lump manifesting in her throat, her eyes fixating on the child in front of her. Darcy was five, going on six. She was her younger brother, Garret's daughter. She'd met Darcy a handful of times, mainly at holiday functions. She had dark caramel eyes and chestnut hair. Her skin was milky white, but she was a bit too thin for her age, Belle noted. Garret had been in trouble with the law for years, and Darcy's own mother had died of an overdose when she was barely two. She presumed Garrett had carried her all over the country, living in motels or wherever he could find a place to crash. Their father had given up trying to keep track of him years ago, but he'd always make time to call Belle, and let her know how they were fairing. Darcy deserved better, but Belle wasn't sure if she would be able to raise a child. She wasn't confident enough in herself to provide Darcy with everything she needed.

"Hey," Belle remarked gently, stooping down in front of the frightened girl.

Darcy glanced up, sniffling. Belle wasn't mentally prepared for what transpired next. Darcy latched onto Belle's slender frame, burying her face in the crook of her neck, and sobbing. Belle picked her niece up with all the strength she could muster, allowing her to cry herself empty. She managed to get them into the house. Darcy's clothes reeked of nicotine, and the tiny trash bag which held all of her belongings did, too. She made a pallet for her on the couch. Darcy fell asleep instantaneously, and Belle spent the remainder of her night combing through the paperwork the caseworker had dropped off.

Belle had no choice but to take Darcy to work with her the next day. She'd managed to rouse the girl from her slumber at six the following morning. Belle had washed all of her niece's clothes, but she would have to buy her new ones, soon. The few outfits she possessed were threadbare. She'd given her a bath and washed her hair. Despite being almost six, she looked no older than four. She clung to Belle's arm as they made their way to the library that morning. One hand held Belle's, and the other hand she used to suck her thumb. A coping mechanism, Belle noted.

Ian and Neal were already waiting at the entrance upon her arrival. Darcy hid behind Belle's legs, after noticing the strangers. Neal waved at Darcy, thrilled to have a playmate for the day.

"And who might this be?" Ian inquired, smiling warmly at the frightened girl.

"My niece," Belle huffed, unlocking the door without uttering another word.

Ian noted how tired Belle appeared. Dark circles rimmed beneath her eyelids. The atmosphere around her felt heavy, and he sensed her niece wasn't merely visiting, but Ian wasn't one to pry. He went back to sorting through the remaining boxes from yesterday, but not before throwing a glance over his shoulder, to witness Belle whispering something into the perturbed girl's ear. She nodded compliantly, plopping down on the floor to join Neal in his fort.

A few moments later, Belle made her way to the back of the library where Ian was busy sorting more books. "Sorry for the cold shoulder this morning, but when I arrived home yesterday, the sheriff was at my residence. She had Darcy with her. My brother is in trouble with the law, and unfortunately, Darcy, has gotten stuck smack dab in the middle of it. Either I was going to take her, or she would be placed in a foster home. Out of good conscious, I couldn't allow that to happen. She cried herself to sleep last night and woke up with soiled clothes this morning. I don't think I'm cut out to be a parent," she mumbled exhaustively, leaning her head against a bookshelf.

They were barely acquainted, and she'd just dumped an entire load on this poor man, who was barely scraping by himself. She stifled back a gasp when she felt the comforting weight of his hand on her shoulder. "It'll be alright, just take a deep breath," Ian mumbled in his soothing brogue.

"I'm sorry for dumping all of my personal problems on you." Belle faced him, feeling guilt seize her gut.

"Aye, don't apologize, I may not can offer much but a listening ear is something I'm always willing to lend," he reassured her, compassion flashing within his sable depths.

"I should make us some coffee," Belle added, tearing her gaze away from him. If not, she would probably throw herself into his awaiting arms and crumble into a sobbing heap.

"Allow me," Ian insisted, sidestepping around her. Belle was too exhausted to argue with him, so she made her way back to the front where Darcy and Neal were currently building an impressively tall block tower. Neal seemed to calm Darcy, which elated the librarian. She wasn't sure how much engagement she'd had with other children, but she didn't need to read a child psychology book to know engaging in play with, Neal, was beneficial to Darcy's mental health. Ian returned shortly with two steaming mugs of coffee. He handed her a cup, granting her a reassuring smile. He ruffled Neal's hair as he made his way back to sorting books. Belle allowed her head to drop to her desk, thanking God she'd seen fit to hire him.


	4. Chapter 4

The Librarian's Assistant: Part Four

Two weeks had passed since Ian began working at the library. He and Neal had moved into the caretaker's apartment the week prior, and he'd just received his first paycheck – signed by Mayor Mill's herself. $585 had been his take home pay, but it was certainly more money than he'd seen in weeks. He enjoyed his work at the library and working alongside, Belle French, had its perks. She was kind and witty and she was so great with Neal, and so out of his league. A comfortable friendship had blossomed between them, especially since Darcy had came to live with her.

The little girl was afraid of her own shadow, and sometimes she would burst into tears without warning. Belle referred to it as PTSD. That's what Dr. Hopper had diagnosed her with. She barely uttered a single word to an adult, but Neal was an exception. She'd chat animatedly with his son, unless she noticed someone was watching. Then, she would shut down, without saying another word for hours.

Ian longed to reach out to Belle and offer her support, but he refused to meddle. It was only when she willingly came to him, that he granted her advice or encouragement. Today he was shelving books while she precariously stood on a step ladder, arranging new titles. The silence was companionable, and he barely registered her exhaustive sigh.

"I need a stiff drink or a babysitter or both," she groaned, pulling him from his reverie.

Ian glanced up at her. "You should come over tonight; I'll order pizza, and Neal and Darcy can play," he stated invitingly, startled by his sudden outburst.

Belle blinked owlishly. "Ian, I wouldn't want to be of inconvenience to you."

Ian snorted in amusement. "You've done me a lot of favors, by giving me this job and making sure my boy and I weren't homeless. It's the least I can do. Besides, my nightly routine is mundane. I usually read to Neal, give him a bath, and watch the telly until bedtime. Sometimes I read one of the books I've borrowed from the library if I take a notion."

Belle couldn't conceal her smile as she shimmied down the ladder. "Is six too late?"

"No, six is perfect," he supplied, his heart beating with anticipation. He knew it wasn't quite a date, but entertaining the company of the beautiful, Belle French, was certainly the reason he couldn't quell his exuberance for the remainder of the evening.

XXX

Belle French arrived at his apartment at precisely 5:55 pm.. Darcy held her left hand, gazing around warily at her new surroundings. The six year old looked ready to bolt at any moment. Belle must have sensed her unease, because she bent down beside the girl, crooning gently. "Hey, Darcy, this is Mr. Gold. He works for me, he's Neal's father – the little boy you play with every day."

Darcy's eyes lit up with realization. "Is Neal here?"

"Yes, he's currently playing in his room, would you like to join him?" Gold inquired softly, arresting her attention.

Darcy regarded him cautiously. "Yes, please," she finally consented.

Relief flooded Belle's features as Darcy allowed them to enter the apartment, without warranting a breakdown. She pranced off to Neal's room, conversing freely with the boy. Neal Gold showed Darcy his meager collection of toys, and they began playing with some Lego blocks. Ian kept the door open, leading them to his minuscule kitchen. A pizza box rested on the modest dining table.

"I ordered pepperoni. I hope that's okay," he mumbled apologetically, mentally scolding himself for forgetting to ask her what kind of pizza she preferred. She could have been vegan, and he might have just deeply offended her by gifting her with a pepperoni pizza.

Belle beamed. "Pepperoni is sufficient. I can't remember the last time I had a pizza, but I'm glad you proposed the idea. I think my real problem is I haven't taken the time to have any real adult conversation. Darcy has consumed every free moment I have, outside of work," she sighed, scrubbing her hand down her face.

Ian casually surveyed her features, observing how weary her eyes looked, as if she had taken on the weight of the world. He knew that look all too well, for it was the one which usually permeated his own countenance. "I'm glad you decided to come over, it's been awhile since I've truly had any real company."

Belle chuckled dryly. "Well perhaps a good dose of venting is the perfect remedy for us both."

"I think you may be on to something, Ms. French, so how about some pizza and a Coca Cola? I also have water if you don't like soda. Afterward, we could put our feet up, and I'll allow you to rant as much as you'd like," he added, smiling wryly.

"Soda is fine, and I hope you're ready for me to talk your ear off. You may never invite me over again after this evening," she chortled nervously, pulling the tab on her soda. It fizzed and popped as she brought the can to her lips, sipping generously.

"No need to worry about that, I'm always up for conversation," he reassured her, biting into his pizza. A bit of melted cheese coated his upper lip, he quickly licked it away before she had time to point it out. She recounted a few weeks back when he could barely scrape up enough cash to buy himself lunch. He'd just earned his first paycheck, he was generous enough to buy her pizza – out of his lack. The gesture was small, yet it warmed her heart.

Belle nodded, plucking a pepperoni from her slice and plopping it in her mouth. Two minutes passed before she mustered the courage to speak. She swirled her tongue over her lower lip, keeping her gaze transfixed on her paper plate. He observed her, patiently waiting for her to begin. When the words left her mouth, a dam broke, and she couldn't stop. "Garrett is my younger brother, by three whole years. I prayed for a puppy but got a brother instead. We were inseparable from the moment he was born, he was so witty and brilliant. I imagined he would finish high school and begin his path to medical school. He always showed a keen interest in becoming a doctor. Then, he met Angelica. I'd already began my last year at the university, and Garrett was a senior that year. Angelica was trouble, but Garrett was smitten with her. She introduced him to hard drugs, and he dropped out of school before Halloween. My dad kicked him out; mom died of leukemia my last year of middle school, but I don't think she would've went along with dad's decision. A year later, I moved to Storybrooke. Garrett called me with the news shortly after, letting me know Angelica was pregnant. He sounded so proud, and I wanted to be happy for him, but I was scared, scared for any child they brought into the world. I knew there would be trouble because neither of them could hold down jobs or stay off drugs. Angelica went to prison for drug possession, and Darcy Lynn was born in the prison hospital. My brother wasn't allowed to be present, but he was given custody of her. Angelica still had more time to serve, but she was never released. She died in prison when Darcy was two, of a drug overdose. She'd found a way to have them smuggled inside. My brother moved around a lot after her death, got involved with some shady people. Darcy was present during all of this, and I have no idea what her innocent mind has seen. Has she witnessed her father shoot up and pass out? Did she cry out his name, wondering if he was dead? Was she left alone for days at a time? The only time I saw her was at holiday gatherings, which my father begrudgingly allowed him to attend. Darcy would crawl up onto my lap, and I would read to her. I bought her dolls and books for Christmas, but she didn't arrive with a single one of those things. All she had in her possession when they brought her to me were three threadbare outfits, four pairs of soiled underwear, and a molded teddy bear. I should have intervened sooner, convinced him to let me have her, I'm -" she trailed off, bursting into tears.

Ian let her have her moment, opting to stay silent as she trembled tearfully. Eventually he reached across the table, seizing her wrist. She met his gaze, cheeks ruddy from crying. "You're not your brother's keeper, so don't even attempt to weigh yourself down with unneeded guilt from his mistakes. You have her now. You're making a difference in her life, now. The here and now are what truly matter, Belle."

"But I feel so unqualified," she mumbled fretfully.

Ian stroked her wrist, sending pleasant ripples down her spine. "My Scottish grandmother was very religious, and she used to say, "God doesn't call the qualified, he qualifies the called," or something of that nature. I've never been too devout in my faith, or reached for a higher power until I was down on my luck. I've prayed a lot more through the last few months, though. I prayed for Neal's innocent mind to be shielded from the trauma following his mother's death. I desperately prayed for another job when I lost mine and I knew I was going to be out on the streets, so I think my grandmother may have been on to something. I believe someone is looking out for us all, and I think God knew he could entrust Darcy in your care. He knew she would be in good hands."

Belle smiled brokenly. "My mother was Anglican, and my father was a devout Jew. It was quite the melting pot of religious traditions in our house."

Ian chuckled. "I bet, how about some-" He jumped as lightning crackled across the sky – thunder booming in the distance.

"Sorry, but I'm dreadfully terrified of storms," he muttered apologetically.

"It's quite alright, don't apologize. Do you have some tea? I could make us some tea," she proposed a distraction, in hopes of easing her own worries.

"Or I could," he insisted, recounting the atrocious coffee she'd made his first day on the job.

"No, please allow me," she asserted, rising from her chair to rummage through his cupboards.

"Tea is in the left cabinet," he added, pointing his finger to the left.

Belle opened the cabinet, plucking out the box of chamomile from the shelf. "Perfect," she said, turning on the stove and gathering the tea kettle. Ian held his breath in anticipation as she steeped the leaves. Rain pelted against the roof furiously as she procured two clean mugs from the dish drainer. She poured them both a cup, turning off the kettle. She placed a cup with the faded word "DAD" in front of him. Steam rose from the cup. Belle took a hearty sip of her brew. "Just perfect," she sighed pleasantly.

Ian forced a smile, drawing the cup to his lips. He momentarily closed his eyes, taking a small sip. He was stunned. The tea tasted divine, his palette exploding in exquisite bursts of flavor. "The tea tastes excellent, Belle!" He praised.

Belle grinned cheekily. "I'm glad it has met your expectations."

His heart swelled with warmth, and he wasn't sure if it was from the tea or her smile or a combination of both. "You're perfect," he mumbled dumbly.

"Me or the tea?" She wrinkled her nose funnily.

"Both," he grinned stupidly.

Belle laughed infectiously. "Thank you for taking the time to listen." She placed a warm kiss against his cheek, rendering him speechless. "But I can assure you, I'm not perfect," she whispered.

Ian grabbed her hand, startling her. "Neither am I, and the best part is, we don't have to be." Belle allowed his words to wash over her, stilling her soul and bringing her heart to a place of peace she hadn't experienced in ages. It wasn't long before the rain tapered off, and it was time to retrieve Darcy and head home. The child was calmer as they drove home that evening, and she realized the Golds were having a positive influence on them both – a beacon of hope in their tumultuous storm.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Darcy slept fitfully the night after they'd visited the Golds. The next morning when, Belle, awoke to check on her, she hadn't soiled herself either. "Darcy, it's time to wake up, sweetheart.". She gently shook the child.

The little girl gazed at her with sleepy blue eyes. "Can we go see, Neal?"

"Yeah, we can go see Neal. And, Ian, too." She ruffled her chestnut locks affectionately.

Darcy smiled drowsily. "Neal's dad is nice."

"Yes, he is," Belle simpered, feeling her heart swell with affection for the kind, widower she'd hired. She'd been unaware anything was lacking in her life until he'd shown up. He listened to her rant, shared kind smiles with her, and always did whatever task she assigned him without complaint.

Belle had a bounce in her step when she arrived at the library that morning. She hummed blithely, unlocking the library half and hour before schedule. Ian hadn't arrived yet, so she took the time to make him some tea. He seemed to have fancied the tea she'd prepared for him the previous night, though he'd been awfully opposed to coffee. Odd, she mused.

Darcy had already gravitated to the play area she shared with Neal. At five till eight, she placed two steaming mugs on her desk, gazing expectantly at the door which led to the caretaker's apartment. She busied herself with pushing the ladder towards a shelf she was reorganizing. She shimmied up the ladder, reaching for a tome of Great Expectations. She gasped, losing her balance on the top rung – falling. She closed her eyes, expecting to meet hard concrete. Instead she landed fluidly in someone's awaiting arms. She gasped, eyes fluttering open.

"Thank you, for breaking my fall," Belle stammered, gazing into concerned sable depths.

"You weren't at the front desk, so I came looking for you, to thank you for the tea. I noticed you on the ladder, and it looked unsteady. I was coming over to guide you down, but you took a misstep. I'm grateful you weren't harmed and that I was here to catch you." He gently set her upright, his heart thrumming rapidly in his chest from her close proximity.

"God's perfect timing, I suppose," she mumbled, averting her gaze sheepishly.

"Yeah, um, so the tea was lovely – outstanding job, yet again," he praised, feeling the tips of his ears burn.

She nibbled on her bottom lip. "I'm glad because I know you're not too fond of my coffee."

Ian's cheeks bloomed red. "I-I-I-it isn't terrible," he stuttered.

Belle smirked, bopping him on the nose playfully. "It is, and I'm sorry I subjected you to such tortures."

"But your tea isn't," he countered.

The librarian's lips pursed into a bemused smile. "Ah, so there it is! You finally admitted it! You don't like my coffee after all." She granted him a half lidded gaze.

Ian sighed, deflated. "No." He hung his head shamefully.

Belle shrugged. "It's alright, I'm not perfect. I can't be good at everything."

"But you are good at so many things, like tea making, and you're so great with Neal, and I'm astounded and so proud of you for taking in Darcy. You're a strong woman, and I truly admire that about you, Belle," he blurted out abruptly.

Belle blinked owlishly, flabbergasted. "Wow."

"Did I say too much?" he blushed crimson, backing away slightly.

"No, I definitely needed to hear that," she replied, stepping closer.

Belle brazenly cupped his cheeks within her palms, eliciting a shudder from him. "You, sweet, sweet, man. You're an astounding father. I've known that since you started working here, and you've certainly become a dear friend to me."

Pleasant warmth spiraled through him from her declaration. "A friend?"

"Yes, of course. Your company last night eased my mind. I felt so downtrodden and defeated because I had no idea what to do about Darcy, but your advice about pressuring myself to be perfect was truly beneficial. I can't allow myself to be consumed by doubts. I have to wake up with the attitude that I'm going to do the best I can every day, no matter the outcome." She patted his cheek lightly, returning to the ladder.

"Do you think it can be fixed?" Belle gestured towards the ladder.

"Yes, it looks easily repairable, I believe I can fix it," he said, absentmindedly touching his cheek – missing her soft caress.

A corner of her mouth lifted. "You're so reliable, I'm so glad I hired you."

He brightened. "I'm glad you hired me, this job is the best thing that's happened to me in a long time. If it wasn't for you, then my boy and I would surely be on the streets."

The bell dinged, signaling someone's entry. "I better go check that," she inwardly cursed, wishing they could have continued their conversation. She stifled back a groan, noticing her guest was the loathsome, Keith Knotts. His eyes illuminated, and he grinned wolfishly – raking his eyes over her lewdly. She pulled her cardigan tightly around her lithe frame, feeling utterly exposed.

Belle narrowed her gaze at him. "Can I help you, Mr. Knotts?" she stated pointedly.

Keith frowned at her use of his formal surname. "I told you to call me Keith, there's no use for formalities."

Belle regarded him with a stern countenance. "How may I assist you, Mr. Knotts?"

Keith carded his fingers through his greasy locks agitatedly. "You haven't been returning my calls. Are we over?" His lip puckered out pathetically, and Belle had to stifle back the sudden urge to scoff.

"There was never an 'us'. One date doesn't constitute an us. So unless you need assistance with checking out a book, then I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave. I have work to do, and I'm not interested in having a personal conversation." She brushed him off, her ire beginning to rise.

Keith stormed out of the library, slamming the door – nearly knocking it off its hinges. She observed the children playing contentedly, flinch at the unpleasant sound. Ian rushed to the front. Belle's jaw clenched as she gaped vehemently at the front entrance. He squeezed her shoulder softly. "Is everything okay?" he asked, concerned.

Belle pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing exhaustively. "Just a jerk I dated a couple months back. Well, we technically only went on one date and it was terrible. I told him I never wanted to see him again, but he can't seem to take a hint. He pops in from time to time, expecting me to give him another chance."

He seized her wrist; she exhaled sharply – her skin tingling pleasantly from his touch. "You should be careful. Let me walk you home this afternoon, I know you usually opt to walk because of the short distance, but I don't trust that guy."

"You didn't even see him," Belle countered.

"It'll still make me feel better if you allow me to walk you home," he insisted.

"Fine," she consented, still agitated by Keith's visit.

When it was time to close up the library, Ian followed through on his promise. He held Neal's hand, and she clasped Darcy's as they plodded down Main. The sun shone brightly, and though Belle thought it ridiculous for him to walk her home, she found it endearing. Perhaps chivalry wasn't dead after all. When they arrived at her residence, she requested they stay for dinner.

"I'm making spaghetti," Belle told him.

Neal's eyes lit up at the mention of spaghetti. "Papa, can we stay!?" he pleaded, tugging on his father's sleeve.

"Neal can come see my new toys!" Darcy remarked exuberantly.

"Well, Mr. Gold?" Belle snickered.

"Uh, we'll stay for dinner," he consented, his cheeks discoloring involuntarily.

"Excellent, you'll be impressed, hopefully. I'm terrible at coffee, but I make divine spaghetti," she jested. His cheeks flushed deeply at the reminder. As they stepped into Belle's home, he felt his chest constrict with hope. They were taking steps in a new direction, things had began to shift between them, and if there was anything he could use in his life right about now, it was a grand adventure with a beautiful brunette.


End file.
